


Daddy Issues

by AShortWalkToDelinquency



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Explicit Sexual Content, Hallucinations, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:02:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23013703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AShortWalkToDelinquency/pseuds/AShortWalkToDelinquency
Summary: For the kink meme promptWhile having sex with someone, Malcolm hallucinates his father. It's...not a turn off.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Martin Whitly, Malcolm Bright/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 109
Collections: Prodigal Son Kink Meme





	Daddy Issues

**Author's Note:**

> I hope it's what the requestor was looking for!

Five days. Three hours of sleep. Zero fucks left to give.

Bright heads to a club. Somewhere with pounding music that reverberates through his body, with strobing lights that make the scene otherworldly and intangible in all the best ways, somewhere with a well stocked top-shelf liquor selection. He has a few drinks while his eyes scan the crowd, looking for a specific brand of someone he can go home with. It's not long before he sets his sight on a man at the far end of the bar. A man a couple decades older than he is. A man with a quiet strength radiating from inside. A man he can pretend is Gil.

He's got a raging daddy kink and he's not ashamed to admit it. He's been lusting after Gil since puberty, back when a good majority of his hurried and desperate shower wanks featured the detective. Not that he would ever say anything to the man. He knows Gil thinks of him like a son and would never, ever cross that line. 

He chooses not to overthink it, though he knows deep down that his attraction to Gil is inexorably linked to Martin. He knows his daddy kink is a result of his own traumatic relationship with his father along with Gil's introduction into his life as his primary male role model. He could psychoanalyze himself into next week, it wouldn't change things; he'd still want Gil to hold him down and fuck him senseless while telling him what a good boy he is, he'd still want to ask Daddy to fill his hungry hole.

Since that's not an option, Bright occasionally sates his needs by going out to find someone that reminds him of Gil. Always someone at least 20 years older. Sometimes he'll choose someone with a goatee that he can imagine is Gil's running over and scratching his sensitive skin. Other times, he'll find someone with the Lieutenant's darker skin tone, making it easier to envision Gil when he's nose deep in curly black pubes and all he sees is the skin of the stomach in front of him. Very occasionally, he'll pick someone with warm brown eyes and hope that they can fuck him so senseless that he no longer notices that they're not Gil's eyes staring back at him. Whomever he chooses, he'll go back to their place and ride them, call them Daddy, and imagine it's Gil pumping into him.

And God, does he need that tonight. He usually has a pretty decent grip on his hallucinations, but the past few days have been worse than usual. Visions of his past have been haunting his nightmares then following him from his dreams, plaguing him in the waking world as well. He needs something, a distraction, someone inside of him to help him to forget.

And so he finds a man old enough to be his father, someone interested in letting him call them Daddy. Tonight's surrogate is a few inches taller than Malcolm and has an air of authority about him that immediately captures his interest. He has a full beard and mustache, not exactly what Malcolm wants, but his hair is dark at least, lightly accented with streaks of grey. It's close enough.

The man's hands are all over him in the cab, kissing along his jaw while palming him through his trousers and tweaking his nipples through his dress shirt. Malcolm gives himself over to the feelings of arousal and anticipation, but pulls back with a gasp when he catches a glimpse of the girl from the box staring at him in anger over the man's shoulder. The man assumes it's from his ministrations and works his palm a little faster over Bright's trapped erection. Bright squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on the man sucking on his neck until the girl disappears. 

It's a quick ride to the man's apartment and he shoves Malcolm up against the door as soon as they're inside, crushing their mouths together and letting his hands roam over Malcolm's body. 

When they break to breathe, the man asks "Are you ready for Daddy's cock, boy?" 

Even though Malcolm had explained exactly what he wanted from the man before they left the club, the words still zing through him like a current, going directly to his cock.

"Yes, Daddy," he breathes out.

The man smirks and lays a heavy hand on Bright's shoulder, urging him down to the entryway floor. Bright, wanting to be good, follows the command and drops to his knees.

"Good boy," the man growls and runs a hand through Bright's hair, stopping to grip a fistful near the back. Malcolm warms at the praise, knowing that he's making Daddy proud. "Open wide little boy. I've got a treat for you." The man drops his pants just far enough to pull out his half hard cock and presses it into Malcolm's waiting mouth. "Mmm. You're taking my cock so well, my boy," he says as he rocks into Bright's mouth. 

Bright smiles around the man's cock but catches a glimmer in his periphery, a flicker of light that he knows can't be real. He sees himself, 10 years old and dead, watching in anger as Malcolm moans around the man's cock. He takes the cock deeper in his throat, lets black spots fill his vision as his airway is blocked, until his spectre disappears and the man pulls him off with a wet pop.

"Is your tight little ass ready for Daddy?" The man doesn't wait for a response, pulling him roughly to his feet and leading him down the hall to the bedroom. "Strip for me, kid."

Bright does as he's told, shedding his clothes and laying them haphazardly on a chair in the corner of the room while the man strips down beside him. 

"Hands and knees on the bed, kid. Gotta get your little hole nice and ready."

"Yes, Daddy. Thank you, Daddy."

The man groans at Malcolm's obedience as Malcolm moves to the bed, settling onto all fours but leaving his ass near the edge of the bed for easy access. He hears the snick of a lube cap and looks over his shoulder to find the man slicking up his fingers, but his attention is abruptly grabbed by the man standing beside him. Martin Whitly is 20 years younger than the last time Bright saw him only days earlier, his hair and beard are almost jet black in the dimness of the room but his candy-apple apple red sweater still seems unnaturally vibrant. Martin appears to be watching, rapt, as the man walks up behind Malcolm and runs two fingers over his hole, massaging for just a moment to relax the tight muscle before pressing a finger inside and sliding it slowly in and out of his body. 

He can hear his father's deep voice as clearly as if he were really standing in the room. "Oh, my boy. What have you gotten yourself into?" Martin murmurs just as the man presses back in with two fingers. 

Malcolm whines and the man speeds his pace, fucking his fingers into Malcolm's body as Martin stands beside him, watching. Captivated. 

The man fingers him open, quick and efficient. A third finger soon joins the first two and finally brush over Malcolm's sweet spot, making him moan obscenely in the quiet room. The man clearly likes it because he speeds his pace, occasionally stopping to rub firmly over the bundle of nerves inside of him to make Malcolm sigh and moan again and again.

Bright keeps looking back over his shoulder, unable to tear his gaze away from the glint in Martin's eye and the small smile that quirks his mouth as he watches Malcolm's hole stretch wider and wider when the man slips in a fourth finger. This time, when Malcolm calls, "Daddy!" it sends a spike of pleasure so intense through his body that he nearly comes then and there.

After that, the man decides that Bright is stretched and ready and asks, "You've been so good for me baby, how do you want to take Daddy's cock?"

Bright is panting on the bed, legs still spread wide as he tries to get himself under control. That was...unexpected. His fantasies have always involved Gil. He's never thought of Martin sexually, but the idea of him being there, watching Malcolm as some stranger stuffs his fingers into his ass...it turned him on more than he ever would have expected. 

Clearly his daddy issues run deeper than he thought.

He pushes himself up and backs off of the bed, turning to face the man, equal parts relieved and disappointed to find it's just the two of them in the room. 

"Can I please ride your cock?" He looks up through his eyelashes at the man, the picture of innocence. 

The man answers with a bruising kiss, pulling Malcolm in with a heavy hand around the back of his neck before breaking free and shuffling to lay in the middle of the bed, his erection standing thick and heavy and waiting for Malcolm. 

Malcolm's quick to climb on the bed and crawl over, throwing a leg over the man's hips and getting himself lined up. The man grabs hold of his cock and helps to line it up with Malcolm's body, groaning as Malcolm slides down his length right to the base. 

He should give his body time to adjust, but he doesn't want to. He starts to move immediately and it's more pain than pleasure but he bites his lip and pushes through because he knows that will change soon enough and, more than that, he knows that he deserves the pain. 

As expected, the burn transforms into pleasure after a moment or two and he speeds his pace. Hands splayed over the man's chest for balance, he raises and lowers himself faster and faster on the man's cock, embracing the fullness of having someone so deep inside of him.

The man begins thrusting his hips in time with Malcolm's movements, pressing even deeper with every snap of the hips. Bright closes his eyes and tosses his head back as he bounces on the man's cock, grunts and low groans filling the room.

"That's it, my boy."

It throws off Malcolm's rhythm and his eyes snap open at the sound of Martin's rich timber coming from below him. His breath leaves him in a high pitched whine when he looks down and it's no longer the man from the bar that's fucking up into his body. Instead it's his father. 

Martin is looking at him with pride shining bright in his eyes as he runs his hands over Malcolm's thighs. "You were always so good for me, Malcolm. Always such a daddy's boy."

Bright stares wide-eyed at his father, his mind trying hard to process the change while his body just enjoys, continuing to rock hips to feel the movement deep inside of his body. Malcolm becomes achingly hard as his father's cock slides smoothly in and out, in and out. He whimpers but bounces harder, a litany of "Daddy, please. Daddy I love you," falling from his lips.

"Oh, my boy. Daddy loves you too." Hands slide up from Malcolm's thighs to grasp tightly around his hips, a powerful grip to pull him down harder with every thrust. "I won't let you go."

Malcolm's keening as Martin fucks into him harder and harder. He can feel his balls pulling tight. He's close. But he needs more.

As if his father knows - and Martin always did seem to know exactly what Malcolm needed - a warm hand wraps around his cock and begins to stroke. Malcolm moans, rhythm faltering as he gets closer and closer to orgasm. 

He squeezes his inner muscles and Martin moans beneath him. He wants them to come together. Wants to feel his father's seed shooting hot into his body. "Dad, please."

"Together, my boy."

With a particularly hard slam up into his body, he feels Martin come inside of him, a warm rush filling him up as Martin whispers, "Remember, we're the same."

Malcolm cries out, pleasure washing white hot over him in what is probably the most powerful orgasm he's ever had. The aftershocks are intense as he rides it out, wave after wave of come spurting from his cock until finally he's spent and collapses on the body below him.

He lays there, panting, as he comes down, finally whispering, "Thank you, Daddy," into the firm chest below him.

It startles him when it's not Martin's voice that answers back.

"Fuck, that was hot, kid. We should do this again."

Malcolm rolls off and avoids looking at the man as he hurriedly dresses, come dripping down his thigh as he moves. 

He leaves without saying a word, without even glancing back. He can't stand the thought of looking over and seeing a stranger where his father had just been, of not hearing Martin's warm voice as they bid one another goodnight.

His pants are sticking to him as he gets in the back of the cab, his 10-year-old corpse looking at him with despair in his eyes the whole way home.


End file.
